The wonted silence of the Sabbath-day was broken by the angry voices of men, and Susan hurried out of the church to ascertain the cause—a dreadful suspicion arising in her mind.
A glance at the tumultuous scene at the pondside revealed to her the catastrophe which was being enacted. Instantly she flew to the vestry where the Vicar was unrobing, and seizing him by the arm, she cried—
"Oh, come, Vicar, come this instant, the men are murdering the stranger!"
Then she and the Vicar hurried towards the pond. The enraged rustics had thrown a rope over the unhappy apparitor's shoulders, and having secured their victim in a noose, were dragging him to and fro in the water.
"Hold, in God's name!" shouted the Vicar. "What madness possesses you, men?" he continued; "are you not ashamed of yourselves? Here, give me the rope," he cried, as he grasped the situation.
"Let me help you, Vicar," pleaded Susan, anxious to have some part in the matter.
So the two rescuers drew the half-drowned apparitor to land, and Susan, stooping down, undid the rope which was choking the man.
He showed no sign of life now, his face looked unnaturally pale in contrast to the dull green slime which besmeared it.
"Run to the vicarage and bring some strong waters, Robin," he cried to a youth who stood looking on.
"Nay, rather run to the 'Six Bells'; it is nearer," suggested Susan, and the boy dashed away to do their bidding.